A Hundred Challenges
by Avi W. Lovegood
Summary: A hundred one-shots for Maristela Freesia's challenge. Will be updated at least once a week. One shots will be rated anywhere from K-T.
1. Theme List

So, Maristela Freesia has created a challenge for the Hunger Games. It is 100 theme Challenge. I want to see how far I get. It is summer vacation, so I'll have a lot of time for writing, so don't worry; my other stories will be updated as per usual.

Theme 1: Love

Theme 2: Light

Theme 3: Dark

Theme 4: Seeking solace

Theme 5: Break Away

Theme 6: Innocence

Theme 7: Breathe Again

Theme 8: Memory

Theme 9: Insanity

Theme 10: Silence

Theme 11: Blood

Theme 12: Tears

Theme 13: Happiness

Theme 14: Sorrow

Theme 15: Flower

Theme 16: Night

Theme 17: Stars

Theme 18: Eyes

Theme 19: Dreams

Theme 20: Waiting

Theme 21: Sacrifice

Theme 22: Fairy Tale

Theme 23: Magic

Theme 24: Mirror

Theme 25: Broken Pieces

Theme 26: Starvation

Theme 27: Words

Theme 28: Can you hear me?

Theme 29: Heal

Theme 30: Pain

Theme 31: Drowning

Theme 32: Last Hope

Theme 33: Puzzle

Theme 34: Solitude

Theme 35: Relaxation

Theme 36: Break

Theme 37: Mother

Theme 38: Want

Theme 39: Wrath

Theme 40: Moon

Theme 41: Walk

Theme 42: See

Theme 43: Die

Theme 44: Young

Theme 45: Need

Theme 46: Horrific

Theme 47: Snow

Theme 48: Storm

Theme 49: Alcohol

Theme 50: Alone

Theme 51: Gone

Theme 52: Wedding

Theme 53: Fantasy

Theme 54: Lock and Key

Theme 55: Poison

Theme 56: Sword

Theme 57: Bones

Theme 58: Chains

Theme 59: Rainbow

Theme 60: Midnight

Theme 61: Fear

Theme 62: Underwater

Theme 63: Wings

Theme 64: Unseen

Theme 65: Princess

Theme 66: Sharp

Theme 67: Fading

Theme 68: Dirt

Theme 69: What if

Theme 70: Lace

Theme 71: Bird

Theme 72: Fashion

Theme 73: Bunny

Theme 74: Scars

Theme 75: Sparkle

Theme 76: Confusion

Theme 77: Freedom

Theme 78: Joy

Theme 79: Time

Theme 80: Warmth

Theme 81: Insomnia

Theme 82: Dance

Theme 83: Message

Theme 84: Imaginary

Theme 85: Underworld

Theme 86: Ice

Theme 87: Hope

Theme 88: Song

Theme 89: Fire

Theme 90: Lost

Theme 91: Play

Theme 92: Run

Theme 93: Wild

Theme 94: Morning

Theme 95: Loneliness

Theme 96: Sweet

Theme 97: Run

Theme 98: Courage

Theme 99: Ocean

Theme 100: Forever


	2. Love

**Theme 1: Love**

In the country of Panem, love can be dangerous.

Especially if you are a victor.

Often, if it doesn't get you killed, it drives you insane.

These are the thoughts that pass through the head of Haymitch Abernathy as he stood, arms crossed, staring through the glass at one of the few people he had come to care for in this world.

Though Katniss probably thought differently.

Not that he blamed her. It didn't mean he liked it, but he didn't blame her. He cared for her too, though.

It was funny, actually. Two years ago, he had still been a bitter drunk who hated the world and thought of nobody. He was still a bitter drunk who hated the world, but he certainly had more people to worry about.

Peeta and Katniss, for starters. Those two had certainly come barreling in his life. He had expected them to be just like all the others; a waste of time, just two other people he would fail to save. He figured he would do his best, but in the end, he would come home alone yet again. Then they had won, not once, but twice. Well, sort of. Katniss was rescued, but Peeta was captured by the Capital. In the following weeks, Katniss could barely stand to look at him, much form a conversation.

Now they had him back. And yet they didn't. The Peeta Mellark in front of him was nothing like the Peeta Mellark he had seen in Quell. He wasn't even allowed to see the boy, for fear of being attacked.

Despite this though, he still loved the both of them.

However there was still that nagging thing that picked at his heart.

In the country of Panem, love can be dangerous.

Especially if you are a victor.

Often, if it doesn't get you killed, it drives you insane.


	3. Light

**Theme 1: Light**

Peeta walked down the icy winter street, carrying a small basket. He knew it was silly, but he always wished he could have something better to carry the baked goods he made every day. It wasn't that he was too picky; it was just that parading though Victor's Village with a basket full of muffins wasn't exactly very macho.

He stopped himself from not turning immediately down the familiar pathway to town. It had been almost a year, and yet he still wasn't used to living in such a quiet place. He missed the bulky noise that accompanied living in the market area of District 12. His house had a giant kitchen that was probably even larger than the bakery itself, so he didn't often go to town except to visit his family.

Taking a deep breath, he himself to turn right instead of left, squinting at the beams of cold sunshine that decided to fling themselves directly into his dusky blue eyes. Finally, he arrived at a house that, from the outside, looked like a lavish place to live. However, on the inside, he knew it was a mess he wasn't sure even pigs would enjoy.

Opening the door, he wrinkled his nose at the smell composed of mold, stale alcohol, and general filth. Wading through the debris, he decided to talk to Katniss about finding someone to clean this place. He had heard Gale's mother was looking for work. God knew Peeta had money to burn; he decided to do as soon as he went into town.

"Wake up Haymitch." He called as he strode into the kitchen, frowning at the man strewn across the wooden table. "Why is it so dark in here?" he muttered. Walking across the room, he yanked open the hole-ridden curtains. The sudden light that belted its way through the glass woke the man there with a snort. Realizing he was not the only one in the room, Haymitch pulled out the knife he always kept with him, despite his hands being too shaky to get a good grip on it. When he realized it was only Peeta, he scowled and put his head back on his arms, waving one hand at the baker's son in a frustrated manner.

"Turn the light off, boy." He rasped.

"That's called the sun, Haymitch. Remember it?" Peeta said, dumping the basket on the table. Haymitch lifted his head with a sour look, then sighed and grabbed a large roll made out of a sweet tasting wheat bread. Biting into it, he examined the boy standing in front of him.

"Where's the girl?" he said through a mouthful of the bread.

"Hunting." Peeta said stiffly, pulling up a chair. He quickly leapt off of it, though, when he realized he had sat on half of a broken bottle of liquor. "Geez Haymitch. Can you not at least clean up after yourself?"

His mentor decided not to answer, merely grabbing another roll.

"Did you see what rolled into town today?"

"No, I haven't had a chance to go to the market today."

"Well, you might want to take that chance."

Now Peeta was suspicious. "Why? What's wrong?"

"A whole parade of cars came in today, all with the capital's seal on them."

Peeta went stiff, his back going straight, sucking in a hiss of air. "Cars from the Capitol? Here? Cinna, Portia and the others aren't supposed to be here yet."

"I don't think it's your stylists."

"Well then, who could it be?"

Haymitch didn't answer, but simply looked Peeta straight in the eye. "It's getting colder. Looks like it might even snow today. Be careful on your way back, it could get icy." It was both a dismissal and warning. Peeta's eyes widened, and then went as blank as his face. "I see. Thanks for telling me." At his mentor's nod he stood and walked out of Haymitch's house.

He was almost home when he saw them. A small squad of Peacekeepers surrounded one man with pale skin and a tight face. Peeta did not say a word as he passed him, and merely nodded his head in respect. President Snow looked at him, eyes full of both disdain and calmness that seemed deadly. "Hello Peeta Mellark." He said quietly.

"President Snow." Peeta said, nodding his head once again. Without another word, he passed by the group quickly and wrinkled his nose at the stench of roses. He had never liked the smell; it was too potent for his tastes. Striding down the street, Peeta looked at the sky, a small nest of foreboding settling in his heart.

The light of the sun had never looked so threatening before.


	4. Dark

_**Chapter 3: So so so sorry! I went to two camps, my little sister had intense surgery, and I've had family in town since I last updated. Just haven't had time to write. :P  
>-<strong>_

_**Theme 3: Dark**_

_****_He couldn't see.  
>He couldn't think.<br>He couldn't even breathe.

All around him, it was dark. Not just dark, but horribly dark. It was so potent that it was almost a blinding darkness. If such a thing makes sense.

He was alone. The only thing he could hear in this black penitentiary was the sound of his own breaths, forcing themselves in and out, in and out of his lungs in. They clung to the air; as if afraid they would die if they went quiet. The darkness was chocking him, strangling him of his very life.

Not that some he knew wouldn't be glad he was dead. In fact, an entire group of people where wondering whether or not they should just abandon this war and focus on killing him, seeping the life out of his veins.

Not that he didn't deserve to die. He had done awful things, horrible things. The life of so many where on his pale hands.

Not that he didn't want to die, sometimes. To just end this all himself, and go to the Hell that awaited him.

But that was too easy. It wasn't what others expected of him. They expected him to be cold, so he was cold. They expected him to be brutal, so he was brutal. They expected him to be cunning, so he treated life like a game of Chess he had enjoyed as a child.

He hated the lot of them. The stupid worms that seemed to want nothing more than to end him

Who could he trust? No one. Who could he tell his fears to? No one.

He was cold, cold as snow. 

And he couldn't escape this darkness.

So when people with Capital accents and looks entered his room, he wasn't surprised. He wasn't scared. He barely even loathed them. He just sat there and let them come toward him.  
>After all, what was a leader without his servants? <p>


End file.
